Lyrics I Shot Ya - LL COOL J, Keith Murray, Prodigy

I Shot Ya

Blaze this one, word up!
I’ma blaze this one
No doubt!
Uhh, check it, check it, check it
Uhh, uhh, check it, check it, check it
I’m Uncle L, check it, check it, check it
The Trackmasters, check it, check it, check it
Now everybody now, check it, check it, check it
All my niggas now, check it, check it, check it
Yeah, we 'bout to serve this one off nice, y’nahmean?
Word up, check it!
I shot ya!
I’m splittin' brothers open like a doctor
Ya fell asleep, the vampire teeth got’cha
I drop ya down in boilin' acid
Ya melt like plastic, elastic, is drastic
Violations, room vibrations, son
Cock the hammer let the Uncle give em one
Done take a flick of a wicked lunatic
Puttin hits on your clique, got’cha wife in turnin' tricks
What?
You don’t wanna, I thought that you was bawlin'
Now watch cos I cock ya love, ya girlies fallin'
Uh, what’s my function?
Lyrical injection
Blazin' niggas, hittin' 'em raw with no protection
I take advantage
Ya fear me, I’m doin' damage
Ya hear me
The whole scenario is dreary
MC’s is gettin' wet up in the game
I meet you up in Memphis, just call my name
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya
I got ya strapped to the stage and
Trapped in a cage and, tongue kissin' a Gauge and
Ya mob’s locked down underneath the surface
Ya gettin' nervous for talkin' shit with no purpose
Laced up, mind charmer, mad drama
What goes around comes around, not around farmers
Silence, shhhh, very deadly
Come and battle, let me add you to my medley
Possessin' power, takin everything I can grasp
Go get it now, why you always dwellin' on the past?
Baby boys reminiscin' old school shit
Young fools get dicked, LL rules the shit
With a platinum fist, the relentless abyss
I take you to a land where piranhas like to kiss
Massacre, mmuh, blowin' up the tour bus passengers
Chuckin' the color outta cartoon character
Ya get serious
Real niggas recognize what my theory is
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya
I shot ya!
Word up, I’ma lace this shit crazy, y’nahmean?
Word up, we’re gonna blow the spot up, kid
No doubt about it
Yeah, yeah, I ain’t through, I ain’t through, I ain’t through
Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' kinda leary
Ya clique thought I fell off, they didn’t wanna hear me
Oh really, now teel me how long have you been whinin'?
Sixteen years, twenty million albums, yeah you’re climbin
I love your joint Rock The Bells, it was mad hot
Ya record 'bout the Radio was blowin' up my spot
My girl was on your chip when you flipped I Need Love
Your backseat countset was mad butter, son
I loved your boomin' system it was wicked as could be
You bad, now I’m writin' on your pink cookies
And you had me screamin' Mama Said Knock Ya Out
Ya jinglin', baby, no doubt
Uh, talk to me (what, what, uhh, uhh) become a zombie, walk to me
Ain’t a MC alive who fought with me
Y’nahmean?
Mad rugged
Easy does it
I got em flockin' like buzzards
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna (uhh)
Ya wanna hit, give me a hour (uhh)
Plus a pen and a pad (uhh, check it, check it, check it)
What, what, what, what, what
Uh, what?
Y’nahmean?
This is how we gettin' down for crizzown
No diggity, y’knowI’msayin?
Trackmasters lace me, y’knowI’msayin?
And I take care of mines, y’knowImean?
That’s it son!
Peace!